


Against the Night

by englandwouldfalljohn



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drabble, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 18:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englandwouldfalljohn/pseuds/englandwouldfalljohn
Summary: Sherlock wakes to find John sitting alone in their flat. As he begins to speak, the confession comes unbidden.





	Against the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaapp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaapp/gifts).

> Based on the prompt, "I always feel lonely, except when I'm with you," from @14kaapp on twitter.

“I always feel lonely...” Sherlock intoned to the darkened room, approaching the back of John’s chair cautiously. It was half three in the morning, and if the residual adrenaline from the case was still coursing through his flatmate’s veins, he didn’t want to risk any sudden reactions.

“I always feel lonely, except when I’m with you.” He settled into his own chair, willing John to make eye contact with him rather than that empty glass of scotch. If he was going to do this - and it seemed it was - then he would do it right.

“Did you know I sit in your chair while you sleep?”

Navy eyes flashed.

“Your laptop. I favor it because...” he clenched his teeth. “Because there are always traces of your breakfast between the keys. We only run out of milk when I’m convinced you’re about to leave. It gives you a chance to walk away. It proves you still want to come back. I’m always lonely, John. Have always been lonely.”

Sherlock’s peripheral vision told him a left hand was trembling, and anyone could’ve picked up that change in breathing. He was always done. There would be time to analyze the signs later. When he was alone. Again.

“I always feel lonely, John, except when I’m with you. The world never stops whirring in my head, until there’s you. John Watson, I-“

“Save it, Sherlock.”

He dropped his eyes to his own too-proper hands resting on his thighs. “Right.”

The thud of glass being set on wood, the shuffle of a psychosomatic limp struggling out of a chair. And a hand, extended into his line of vision. Palm up, open. Waiting.

“J-John, I don’t-“ he stammered, wrapping his own fingers tentatively around his friend’s, half expecting them to be pulled away at the last moment. 

Instead he found himself chest to chest with a solid body. Confident arms snaked around his slender back, and stubble rasped against his neck.

“Save it, Sherlock. You’ll want to have something left to say in the morning.”

John’s body began to sway gently, and as Sherlock closed his eyes against the night, it came to him. A song only they could hear. 

  



End file.
